Ride On
by Wartermehloan
Summary: Teenchester. After a first failed attempt at a spirit, something starts to target Sam. Before they go after it again, the Winchesters must figure out what they're up against, but will it be too late? Are things as they originally seem? Sam, 12. Dean,17. Hurt/Sam, Protective/Hurt/Dean. Protective/John.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: _**If Supernatural was mine, Dean would have one sexy-ass girlfriend with him in every scene with extremely curly hair (aka, me). And I'm not making any money.

**_A/N: _**Hi, this is preseason, Sam is 12 and Dean in 16, tell me what you think? X

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**Ride On**

**1**

"SAMMY!"

Dean lurched forward to push his brother down but the spirit that appeared behind him was quicker. She swiped her hand through the air, throwing Sam across the space to hit the top of a fir tree at the far end of the field. His body crashed loudly into the trunk as branches snapped off from the force of the impact, and Dean watched helplessly as the limp form of the teens body tumbled through the branches to a crumpled heap at it's roots.

Dean's hands were pulling his shotgun out of the back pocket of his jeans before his mind even knew what he was doing. He flicked off safety but, before he could pull the trigger the spirit yelled at him with an ear shattering screech,

"AWAY!", her eyes blazing. And, with another flick of her bony hands Dean met the same fate as his little brother and flew crashing towards a closer tree.

Dazed and winded, Dean pushed up on his elbows to stare at the spirit. She wore a torn, dark dress that stood even darker on the glowing of her white skin. Blood dribbled out of her forehead, running past her right eye that appeared to be blind as it moved lazily in the wrong directions. Her good eye, however, widened in surprise when a shot rang out and the apparition wavered before vanishing completely.

John stood, his gun still smoking, behind where the spirit once hovered. His widened eyes darted between both of his boys.

Dean stood up, letting his father know he was alright, and sprinted towards his brothers unmoving body. Dean's eye's widened in fear and apprehension with every step he took towards his brother, only the worst thoughts flooded his mind as he crouched down beside his brother.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered breathlessly, running his eyes over Sam, taking in the pale complexion of his face and ignoring the copious amount of blood that was staining his t-shirt.

He sat paralysed in shock, physically unable to move. His thoughts tunnelled in on the prospect of losing his brother. There was far too much blood and far too little moving that came from the young hunter's body. He looked… well, he looked… No. Not now. Not like this. Not ever, not while Dean was still breathing.

"Dean, snap out of it." John ordered when he appeared beside him, putting two fingers to his boy's neck and pressing his other hand on Sam's stomach. Relief flooded him when the teen's stomach slowly moved John's hand up and down with each breath.

"How's his pulse?" Dean asked, cradling Sam's head on his lap. His hands combed through his hair as he tried to lull the boy into consciousness.

"Not as strong as I'd like it to be but it's not bad." John said, "We need him at a hospital, he's loosing too much blood."

Dean nodded, pulling out his phone carefully, so not to jolt his brother, and called the number he had dialled too many times.

While Dean was on the phone to the operator, John continued his survey on Sam with practised and steady hands, gently peeling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, earning a moan from the unconscious teenager, "Easy there Sammy," He soothed, peering at the boys chest. It had two nasty gashes that ran deep into his flesh. Bit's of twigs and parts of branches had embedded themselves and his whole frame seemed to be covered in cuts, all varying in how big and deep they were.

While Dean hung up the phone and resumed murmuring encouragement to his unconscious brother, John applied pressure to the two cuts that needed it the most. Sam groaned at the pain that came with it and his eyes moved restlessly beneath their lids. "Sammy?" Dean urged, "Time to wake up, bro."

Sam weakly lifted a shaking hand to swat at his father, trying to remove the hands that were exerting more pain on his chest.

"Sorry kiddo, need to keep the pressure on." John apologised, looking worriedly at his youngest son.

"Wha...?" Sam murmured as his eyes fluttered open and dark hazel irises moved around slowly. His vision swayed dangerously as he looked up at his older brother that was leaning over him, concern etched into his face. "Wha h'ppned?"

"Remember Casper thinking you'd look better at the top of the christmas tree instead of the angel?" Dean grinned half heartedly. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing through the pain of the cuts and bruises. "How many fingers am I holding up, Sammy?"

Sam blinked his eyes, trying to anchor his vision. "Mmm… four."

"That's a thumb Sam, doesn't count." Dean grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring the wave of nausea it bought, "Three then."

Dean looked down at his two fingers and frowned, "S'good Sammy."

" 's she gone?" Sam asked, "The spirit?"

"Don't worry 'bout that kiddo, we'll sort it out." John assured.

Sam smiled and gazed up at Dean, his eyes unfocused, "She looked kinda like your ex-girlfriend." And with a soft chuckle added, "Emphasis on 'ex' - Gah!" Sam yelped as John pressed down harder on his wounds.

"Sorry, tiger, just got to get it to clot quicker." John apologised, looking ruefully down at his youngest.

Sam gave a quick nod in understanding, "How bad s'it?" He asked, looking back up at his brother.

"Just a scratch. You're just being a baby about it." Dean grinned and Sam rolled his eyes again at his brother, but this time the nausea was too overwhelming to ignore.

He didn't even need to say anything to his over-observant father before he was rolled over onto his side.

Dean squinted at the stench but held his brother as he expelled whatever he had left in his stomach into the wet grass.

"You done, kiddo?" John asked when Sam had stopped. Sam waited a few moments before nodding and John rolled him onto his back again.

Sirens sounded in the distance to the right, "Cavalry's here." Dean said, looking up at the blue and white flashes he could just make out through the trees.

"I'll go get them. Roads not far, I'll be a second Sammy." John said, standing up, "Dean, keep pressure on that wound 'til I get back."

Dean nodded before John set off at a ran for the forrest.

"I don't wanna go to a hospital," Sam rasped as Dean moved into a better position to put pressure on the wound. "You and Dad can jus' patch me up at the motel."

"But they're already here. It'd be rude." Dean offered.

"Since when're you one for manners?" Sam slurred, groaning in pain as Dean pressed down harder on his chest. "Don't need a hospital."

"Humour me Sammy."

"Jus' stop pressing on my damn chest 'n I'll be fine."

Dean frowned as Sam's words grew more disjointed the more he spoke.

No longer than two minutes later, two paramedics came running across the field towards them with John hot on their heels. The sun that was setting behind them making them appear as silhouettes, their large shadows bobbing up and down on the field as they ran closer.

"Hi Sam," The younger woman of the two asked breathlessly as she crouched down beside him, "My name's Sarah, can you breath deep as you can for me?" She asked, pulling out her stethoscope and placing the end peace on Sam's bare chest. Sam did as she asked but squeezed his eyes shut when it pulled on the millions of lacerations and bruisings that covered his chest. "And again?" She asked, moving the stethoscope to the other side of his chest. Sam bit his bottom lip and prepared himself this time as he breathed again. "Okay, we're going to get you to the hospital, Sam. You're doing really well."

Dean frowned at the woman's words. It's what his Dad always said to him to try and calm him down when his injuries were at their worst and, there were a lot of words that Dean would use to describe how his brother was doing right now but 'well' was not one of them.

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Five hours later found the Winchesters in a private room in the nearest hospital. It was nine o'clock and pitch black outside the window as John peered through it, pouring a hidden layer of salt on the pane. He continued to pour salt on the other window and above the doorframe before returning back to his youngest. A nurse was doing her check in on Sam and peered at his bandages. Sam, being as modest as he is, blushed deeply at the body inspection and John noticed with a smile that Dean was trying his best to draw Sam's attention away from the nurse and his embarrassment.

Dean, who had actually earned a minor back injury by being slammed into a tree, got his own bed next to Sam's. There was no way that Dean would have considered going to hospital with the injury, let alone stay long enough to get his own bed, but it allowed him to stay with Sam and he was happy for the excuse.

John was worried that he wouldn't be able to stay because the hospital was very strict on their visiting hours, but after Sam was settled in his bed and Dean had been sorted out, Sam's doctor, Doctor Martinez, had approached him with her clipboard and had asked him, "How's the headache going, Mr Parker?"

John had jolted out of his reverie and looked at the doctor, "Sorry?" He had asked.

"You know, the headache? How're you holding up?" She had asked, pushing her chocolate hair behind her ear. John, who's processing had been worn thin from worrying over his children just stood with a confused look at the doctor, "You know, the headache you got from hitting your head when you climbed up the tree after your sons? The one I thought you might need to be admitted the night for? You can't be too careful with head injuries you know." She prompted, her eyes wide as she glanced over at Sam and Dean.

"Oh, that one," John said in realisation, "Yeah, I'll live, but it's still pretty bad."

"Mhmm… Just as I had thought." Doctor Martinez had said, scribbling something onto her clipboard, "I'll admit you right away then." She had grinned and walked away, John taking an instant liking to the women.

And now, he sat in his chair, in-between his son's beds and talked to Dean quietly as Sam slept in the other bed.

"We should have researched that one more." Dean shook his head in guilt, "How could we have gone in so blind? We didn't even know where a bouts the bitch would show up, let alone how strong she might be."

"Yeah, it's weird isn't it?" John said thoughtfully.

"What is?"

"Spirits usually become more powerful through anger. She didn't look very angry."

"What? Oh yeah, I forgot being catapulted into a tree is just a supernatural way of saying hello." Dean chided.

John looked sternly at Dean, "She just seemed territorial. The way she said 'away' made it seem like she was guarding something, not avenging it."

"What do you mean _said_? She almost blew my ears off."

John shook his head in exasperation at his son, "I'm just saying. I've got a funny feeling 'bout this one."

Dean paused before asking, "Good or bad?" A 'feeling' was never something to ignore when you're a hunter.

"… Different." John said finally.

"Mr Parker?" A voice called out from behind the door.

John got out of his seat and walked over to the nurse waiting in the doorway. The petite women held out a bag toward him, staring at him blankly. "I made a bag with your son's clothing," She stated monotonously.

John raised an eyebrow at the nurse but took the bag anyway, "Thank you."

The nurse took her time with a slow nod before turning around sharply and walking in a slow, straight line away from him.

John shook his head but walked quietly up to Sam's bed and but the plastic bag beside it. Looking down at Sam, he noticed his boy was shivering slightly. He looked so fragile; his skin so pale, his body enclosed by a cage of medical equipment. John frowned at the blood transfusion being pumped into Sam's bony arm, the bag had almost completely finished. He never liked blood transfusions. He always had found the concept of having another persons blood corse through your veins, but it was keeping his boy alive and that was what mattered.

He pulled the woollen blanket up further and grabbed Dean's jacket from the bag, draping it over Sam's shivering chest. He grinned when Sam grabbed the soft leather subconsciously and sighed in his sleep.

Two hours later and Dean was turning restlessly in his bed, unable to get to sleep, Sam being slammed into the tree so high up replaying in his mind over and over again. A whole hour of not being able to find sleep and Dean declared it impossible. He sat up and turned on the small TV that hung high to the side of his bed. Turning the volume low to not wake his father or brother, he had only started flicking through the channels when John's gruff voice piped up.

"You should be asleep." He said, his eyes remaining shut and not moving his position in the chair.

"Couldn't." Dean stated simply, continuing to flip through the four channels.

John rolled his eyes without opening them before standing up and walking over to the small bathroom off to the side.

Dean had just settled on a channel when the TV started flickering. Frowning, he glanced through the windows and into the hall outside, the lights were also blinking rapidly, making his heart beat do the same. He sat up straighter with an exhale and, upon seeing his breath curling in front of him with the sudden drop of temperature, started panicking.

"Er... Da-" He began to call but, before he could finish, his attention was drawn to a sliver of light, drifting up from the bag beside Sam's bed and joined together, forming a blinding silhouette of a person he couldn't make out that hovered just above Sam.

It's hand reached towards Sam. Dean leapt out of bed but the apparition disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. And so did Sam.

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**A/N, Please let me know what you thought - any feedback whatsoever (bad and good) :) Xxxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer -_**Don't own, not making money.

**_A/N_ Hello, thank you to those that reviewed, I wrote a reply at the bottom. And thank you for ****favouriting/following etc. **

**If you like it / don't like it, please tell me and review. It's kinda like little shots of happiness per review. **

**And it's my birthday ****tomorrow (Yay! Finally 16!), a review would be a nice present :)**

**And I made this chapter super long.**

**Xx**

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_PREVIOUSLY_

_"Er... Da-" He began to call but, before he could finish, his attention was drawn to a sliver of light, drifting up from the bag beside Sam's bed and joined together, forming a blinding silhouette of a person he couldn't make out that hovered just above Sam._

_It's hand reached towards Sam. Dean leapt out of bed but the apparition disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. And so did Sam._

**Ride On**

**2**

"Sam…? SAM?"

John shot out of the bathroom, clutching a bottle of holy water in one hand and a pistol of rock salt in the other - the best he could smuggle into the hospital. He searched the room, eyes wide, but couldn't find evidence of any threat other than the expression Dean wore. Dean looked shellshocked, his face white as if he had just seen… well, a ghost.

"What?" John asked, his eyes moving to the other bed in the room. But his other son wasn't there. John marched over, his feet heavy and loud in the quiet hospital, and snatched off the blanket, revealing a clean white sheet with no Sam on it. "Where's Sam?" John asked, avoiding panic. Dean sat still, his eyes transfixed on the empty bed, trying to make sense of what he'd seen. John strode over to him and shook him gently but firmly. "Dean. Where's Sam? What happened?"

Dean blinked and looked up at his Dad. John saw the fear in his frantic searching eyes, Dean's guard had shattered. John gave him another quick shake as his patience wore thin, "Dean!"

"I-I don't know Dad. The lights flickered… Temperature dropped-"

"A spirit?" John interrupted.

"I don't know, I couldn't see. It was just this… light, the shape of a person, and hovered over Sammy's. It reached a hand out and then… I don't know, he just vanished."

"What do you mean 'just vanished'?" John demanded.

"Poof." Dean snapped angrily.

John ran a hand through his greying hair. Turning sharply, he began pacing the room, "I don't understand. We warded the room fine."

"Where the hell is he Dad?" Dean asked, his voice teetering on the edge of panic.

John shook his head, turning to Dean, "I don't know Dean." He said, walking over to his chair to snatch his heavy jacket off the back, swinging his arms into the holes in one smooth motion, "But to hell if we're not gunna find out. Grab some clothes Dean."

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Sam startled awake, only to close his eyes just as quickly, attacked by a pounding headache. He lay in a crouched position on the floor. It was uncomfortable and thorns and pines pierced his skin through the thin material of the light blue hospital pyjamas - which itself was damp and cold. _Thorns and pines? _He thought. His eyes snapped open and searched the immediate space around him. It was dark. Almost too dark to see. But the moon was out and as Sam's eyes adjusted, he started to make out the shapes of trees and foliage, glinting a blue hue in the reflecting moonlight.

_Where the hell am I? _He thought. _Where's Dean and Dad?_

Propping himself up on his elbows he pushed himself up and dragged his protesting body to a sitting position, his back leaning against the large stone behind him. He blinked in confusion. _Think Sam, _he told himself but he couldn't remember anything past falling asleep in his hospital bed with both Dean and John there. How did he wake up in the middle of the forest?

Minutes passed of Sam trying to work things out but his exhausted mind couldn't come up with anything rational. The only thing he knew was that he was in the middle of the woods, still wearing his hospital pyjamas, still feeling like he had been hit by a bus and that he was freezing in the mid-April night.

The ground was damp from a recent rainfall and it seeped into the thin material of his pyjamas. Deciding he needed to get as warm as he possibly could, not wanting to add hypothermia to the list of damage that had been inflicted upon his body in the last few hours. He pulled up the heavy leather jacket that he had woken up clutching in his hands and lay it on the ground so he could sit on it - relieving him from the water soaked soil.

Considering he could hardly see anything and his mind was still foggy, he decided it would be best if he waited for it to get lighter before he would get up and set off in search of help. He slowly pulled his legs up to his chest, hissing in pain as the deeper cuts screamed their complaint, and put more of his weight onto the stone behind him.

Sam's mind wondered through all of the possibilities that could have ended him up in the woods from the safety of being in a warded room with both his father and his brother, each getting more ludicrous than the next. The weirdest part was how something could have happened to him with John in over-protecitive-super-hunter mode and Dean mother-henning him. Hardly anything could get past them when they were caught _off _guard. So what slipped past them when their guard was at it's highest? And _what _was it exactly that slipped passed them? That leaded to the whole question of why and how the hell had he gotten into the middle of the forest?

He didn't even know how far woodland was to the hospital, not having time to look at a map when they came. Hell, they had only just been passing through the town when they caught wind of a spirit, thought they'd do a quick and easy salt'n burn and move onto the next hunt. How did things go so pear-shaped so quickly?

Rubbing his legs, trying to get some warmth into his shivering body he suddenly thought of how they were in the town to do a salt'n _burn_. Sam quickly manoeuvred himself off of Dean's jacket and pulled it out from under him. Digging into a pocket, he rummaged around and pulled out a wallet and a swiss army knife. The next pocket he tried, he found what he was looking for and pulled out the green, plastic lighter his brother had bought with him to burn the corpse with.

He stuck his finger into the soil and grinned when it revealed that only the surface was wet, meaning there had been only been a light rain shower and that wood would likely catch fire. He looked around for any source of kindling and grinned further when he spotted a dying shrub off to his left. Leaning over, he reached out and pulled off as much little twigs from the shrub as he could, putting them into a neat pile in front of him.

Frowning, he noticed the closest source of any means of thicker logs wasn't that close at all. Biting his bottom lip, he grabbed a hold of the top of the stone and quickly pushed himself up, thinking he wouldn't be able to if it wasn't quick. It was a mistake. Pain shot through his body. He fought strongly against a bout of dizziness and nausea. Sam doubled over but refused to throw up, knowing he might not get anything to eat in a while. He put his hands on his stomach and tried to breathe deeply, though the freezing air did little to calm his stomach. He put his hands on his chest, feeling the sweat trickle down the material of his pyjamas.

Fuelled by determination and sheer Winchester stubbornness, he stumbled over to the nearest tree ten feet away. He leaned against the trunk when he got there, taking a moment to catch his breath. Bending slowly, he reached to grab two of the thicker branches that lay on the ground. When he couldn't see any more on the ground, using the swiss army knife, he snapped a few more from the tree itself and walked back over to the stone. He lowered himself down slowly - having learnt that lesson standing up - and sat down beside his pile of kindling, his back resting against the stone once more.

After arranging the logs and kindling into a position worthy of a long-lasting fire, he looked around for a fire starter. Frowning when he noticed all the leaves were still wet and wouldn't catch. His eyes moved to Dean's wallet and he checked its contents. Grinning, he pulled out an old receipt and a dollar note, scrunching them into a ball. He held up the ball in front of the lighter and set it alight, quickly manoeuvring it to the centre of his little wood fort.

As the fire caught and slowly spread to make a nice camp fire, Sam drew in the scent of the smoke of burning pines and fresh rain on the forest floor. He looked around the space once more now that he had a real source of light and he turned his body slightly to take a look at the stone he was leaning on. His body jumped and he took a harsh intake of air.

The stone had neatly carved words etched into its front;

_In loving memory of Mrs M. H. Lancaster._

Sam, scrambled away from the headstone as quickly as he could and away from where the corpse would have been buried, a shiver running through his spine. Breathing heavily, he squeezed his eyes shut as the reality of his situation slapped him in the face. He was alone, injured, in the middle of no where at the dead of night. And secretly, Sam was terrified.

He had been camping many times with his father and his brother on a hunt but that was with them - where he couldn't feel safer. And even then, John was constantly warning them about what kind of things lurked in the forest at night.

Sam's lower lip trembled slightly as he lay Dean's jacket closer to the fire and as far away from the grave as he could. He lay on it and curled himself into a tight ball, hugging his knees up to his chest as he stared into the fire.

He shut his eyes and prayed for sleep as he tried to ignore all the noises the night offered, tried to ignore how he had never felt so alone in his life.

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"Kay... Thanks Bobby... Bye." Dean said, snapping his cell phone shut.

"What'd he say?" John asked, shooting Dean a side glance as he drove closer to the motel.

Dean sighed, "He says that spirits can't take people anywhere unless they picked them up and carried them."

"Did he get anything useful?" John asked hopefully.

Dean shook his head, looking out the window of John's truck, "He said he'd keep looking and to keep him posted."

John breathed out heavily and absently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, though there was no music.

"So if it's not a spirit, what is it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, Dean." John answered truthfully.

"Where the hell did it take Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean."

"Then what the hell do you know?" Dean snapped.

"Don't use that tone with me, boy." John growled. The threat hung in the air as an echo in the silence that followed. Only the sound of the truck's engine rolling on the deserted road could be heard as they made their way back to the motel, both of them thinking about where Sam had gone. Silently worrying over what might have happened to him.

As they approached the motel, Dean jumped out of the truck and onto the hard asphalt before the truck had stopped moving, running for the room they had only meant to rent for the night. Swiping his key card, he flung open the rotting door and was hit by a wall of hot, fetid air from the decaying room. Flipping on the light switch, a quick scan revealed no Sam. Dean marched towards the bathroom and was dismayed to find it empty.

John entered just as Dean turned to him, "He's not here."

"We'll just keep looking." John said.

"Where?" Dean shot, "It's like looking for a needle in a county! The country for all we know."

"Pessimism isn't going to get us anywhere, Dean."

"Well I can't see any good coming out of Sam being _anywhere_ but the hospital at the moment."

Dean collapsed onto the bed him and Sam were going to share buried his face in his hands, thinking of places they should search. He didn't even know where to begin.

"We could check where we we found the spirit. What if it was her that took Sam?"

John shook his head, "It wasn't a spirit. Wouldn't have been able to get through the wards."

"Well than what do you suggest? It's the only place we've been since we came here."

John shrugged, "Couldn't hurt." He said before Dean got up and shot back out the door and into the truck.

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Sam woke with a start. The sun was just beginning to rise and the sky faded from a dark blue to an almost unreal purple the more east it went. It reminded Sam of one of those paint colour slips, he had seen a few when Bobby needed help choosing a colour of a car once.

The fire was almost out and Sam was visibly shivering. Lifting his head, he decided it was still too dark to start finding his way out of the dense forest. Instead, he chucked some more kindling onto the fire and two more of the thicker branches, blowing into the crimson embers softly until large flames licked the wood and fed on it hungrily. He shuffled closer to the small fire and rubbed on his arms, trying to get some more warmth into them, watching the fire as if caught in a trance.

Eventually, the fire started to die down again and Sam leant in to start blowing on it again to bring it life again. But as Sam blew, there was a sudden drop in temperature and the fire lulled once again, but that wasn't his biggest concern now.

A shiver ran through his spine as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Slowly, Sam turned around on his back. After giving the small clearing a quick scan and not seeing anything, he relaxed a little and turned back to the fire.

His breath caught as he saw the middle aged woman standing on the other side of the fire. Her dress blew in the non-existent wind and her blood-matted hair fell down her shoulders, staining her dress. Her head was still dribbling blood and her pale pallor was much the same shade as Sam's. Her eyes were narrowed and her good eye watched Sam with a kind of intensity that made him shrink back.

She stood next to the headstone Sam had leant against earlier and the two finally clicked.

Despite his racing heat, Sam spoke up, "Mrs Lancaster?" He asked tentatively.

She stared at Sam for a moment, "Away." She whispered so quietly that if Sam wasn't as terrified as he was, he would have thought it was the wind.

Sam blinked before pushing himself up into a painful sitting position. Knowing he had absolutely nothing to defend himself with, he started to pouch himself to his feet, "I-I'm leaving."

Before he could push his weakened and injured body up any further, a large branch came and swung at him with a force that knocked all the air out of him. He fell to the ground and whimpered as he felt stitches break and more blood gushed from his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his stomach and rolling on the floor, trying to breathe through the pain. Though, the only air he could draw in was so cold he felt as though he were breathing in icicles.

"AWAY!" The woman screeched and Sam felt his body being lifted from the ground.

Groaning, he kept his eyes shut as he awaited the impending fate he knew was coming, feeling the wind rush through his hair, stinging his lacerations as he soared through the air.

But the impact didn't come.

Opening one eye, Sam spied the tree a mere foot from his face. His body hovered close but never actually hit it.

"Mother! Stop this!"

Sam tried turning his head as another female voice came from behind him. A girl, no older then Dean stood on the opposite end of the clearing to what must be her mother. She didn't have any nasty looking death wounds like her mother. In fact - quite dissimilarly, she was the most well-kept spirit Sam had ever seen. No blood, no torn clothing, no black eye sockets. She looked normal, apart from the fact you could see straight through her.

Sam watched as the tension between the two spirits seemed to increase until. The woman was staring at her daughter with triple the intensity and hatred she had stared at Sam with. Finally, the mothers eyes narrowed and, with a screech that was almost a roar ran through the fire and straight at the girl with an animalistic ferocity.

Without hesitating, the girl lifted up her hand, levitating Dean's swiss army knife and flipped a knife open. She pushed her hand forwards and sent the knife flying straight through her mother. The spirit screeched once more before wavering and vanishing.

Of corse, Sam knew that the Dean had the knife made of iron. What peaked his interest was that the girl knew that it would work. Spirits hardly ever knew that iron repelled them until it was too late. To use it against another spirit… Sam had never heard of anything like it.

Happy that her mother had left for the time being, the girl turned to Sam. Sam's heart froze as he waited for whatever the girl was going to do to him. What he was not expecting, however, was the spirit to smile at him, reach out a hand towards Sam and gently lower his body to the ground.

Confused and cautious, Sam used the tree to help him stand up as the girl approached him, he pressed his body further into the tree. The girl stopped, sensing Sam's unease, "Don't fear me. I won't bring you harm." She smiled, "I'm Emily. I would shake your hand but… you know." She giggled.

Sam's eyes widened, "Wait, you know you're -"

"A ghost?" Emily asked before nodding, "Yes. I do."

Sam's frowned, how did she work that out? That was another reason why this ghost was different to the others - wether _different _was a good or bad thing, Sam couldn't be sure yet.

"Thank you for, er, helping me." Sam nodded, hugging his small body against the biting cold.

"That's alright. I apologise on behalf of my mother she can be… temperamental?" She giggled again, "What was your name?" She asked.

Sam frowned, not sure whether he should tell her or not. His father had never really given him a lesson on the small talk after a ghost saves your ass from another ghost. But he couldn't see any harm in it. "Sam." He said quietly, "I'm Sam."

"Samuel. I like that name. It was my neighbours." She smiled, "What brings you out here, Samuel?" She asked.

"Urm," Sam said, loosing his balance briefly and stumbling slightly, "I'm not really sure."

She looked at him up and down and frowned, "Are you alright, Samuel?" She asked, "You seem unwell."

Sam frowned slightly. Since when were ghosts concerned about people's well-being? Since when did they save people from their pissed off mothers? His Dad had never mentioned anything like that.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." He said, pushing down on his bleeding chest.

"Was it my mother?" She frowned.

Sam looked uncertainly up at her before nodding slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She glanced behind her to where her mother had stood a few moments ago. "She's not quite herself these days." She laughed only slightly before turning back to Sam.

"Is that her…" Sam trailed off as he nodded at the headstone behind her.

Emily turned, following Sam's gaze and nodded, "That's her grave. I buried her myself." She said, an expression Sam couldn't decipher passing her face, "Couldn't afford it done professionally. I carved the stone too. "Sam felt a wave of sympathy for the girl, it must've been horrible having to burry your own mother. He couldn't do it have it be his Dad or brother. "But that was a long time ago." She finished.

"Why is she angry?" Sam asked sympathetically, thinking he could help out with the hunt when he got back to his family. Although, what he really wanted to ask was why she was being so nice to him, or why her mother was so angry at _her _in particular.

She shrugged before changing the subject, "You should probably get some help." She said, looking at the large stain growing on Sam's shirt, "You won't survive long out here with that," She said, nodding at the blood, "Especially not with her out here," Gesturing to the headstone.

Sam nodded, "I kinda came to the same conclusion." Sam laughed half heartedly and the girl smiled.

"I can take you to my house." She suggested. When Sam looked completely against that decision she added, "The current… living owners can help you." She elaborated.

Sam weighed up his options. He could go with either the kind, trustworthy or the deceptive, evil spirt to her house to find help that may or may not be there. Or he could look for some help on his own. Or, he could stay here and wait for his Dad and brother that had probably started looking for him by now.

Waiting wasn't really an option, because by the time his family probably would find him by, he would probably have bled out or died from hyperthermia. Looking for help himself was a bit of a gamble, but considering he hadn't heard anything relating to nearby civilisation during the night, and chucking in the fact he wouldn't be able to walk that long, the chances were weighed against him. Going with the girl was a risk for obvious reasons, but so were his injuries. And she didn't _seem _bad. Plus, she _had _saved his ass. And to be honest, he didn't see how things could really end up any worse for him.

With that in mind, he nodded slowly and smiled politely, "Lead the way."

She grinned good-naturedly back at him and started off at a slow pace across the clearing. Sam stumbled behind her and, when they reached the headstone, he picked the jacket up and put it on. His body was dwarfed in his brothers large, heavy jacket, it was almost comical. Not to mention Dean would probably kill him if he found out he'd worn it, but he figured he'd probably let him off this time. Sam smiled as the smell of gunpowder and well… Dean, filled his senses and the feeling of warmth and security that came with it. It gave him more confidence.

Bending down again, he picked up the lighter, wallet and penknife to stuff in his pocket.

Gesturing for Emily to continue, she nodded and slowly walked into the forest at a pace he could keep up with. Sam stumbled in after her, clutching his stomach.

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**A/N So, should he trust Emily? How the hell did he end up in the freaking forest in the first place? Please review! Honestly - it's like writers fuel. **

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_**Review Reply**_

_**Grishma239 - Thank you, I'm glad you think so! X**_

_**Becky - N'aw, thanks. Ha ha, guess you better keep reading then! Thanks for the review X**_

_**lenail125 - Thank you, glad you liked it! Thank you for reviewing! X**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer**_** - Still don't own it, still not making any money.**

**_A/N_ - Hi, thank you so much for all the birthday messages! I had a really nice day on the beach with my friends (I've finished exams and have no school - Ha, suckers.) And got a guitar - which I have wanted for _ages_. So I was really happy, and all the messages made me even more happier - so thank you all! X**

**Please review :)**

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**Ride On**

**3**

Sam couldn't tell how long they had been walking for, he couldn't see the sun through the dense canopy of trees. But it felt like it had been , he guessed it had probably been one. Sam's body yelled with every step, but he pushed forward, trying as hard as he could to keep up with the young apparition. Secretly, he did feel a bit safer with Emily around. She helped him against the other spirit that probably would have killed him. She was sweet too, and very talkative. And, she reminded him of Dean slightly. Even though they were completely different. But, being around someone who was about the same age (well, same aged body) and the feeling of security it offered made Sam feel warmer towards the girl.

However, he was his fathers son and kept one hand on the knife in his pocket at all times.

He hadn't been moving very fast. Especially for the past half hour. But Emily waited patiently for him as he manoeuvred himself slowly over logs, or around trees, or up small hills. As the walk went on, he began to trust Emily more - not completely, but more. Although, the further they went, the weaker he got too. And he didn't want to fool himself into trusting her because he felt weak, which would be an easy mistake.

The trek had mainly been silent and, the little amount of conversation there was, was mainly Emily maintaining a one sided conversation since Sam didn't have the energy to talk, he just focused on taking each step.

"Hey," Sam panted, "Emily?" Emily turned to look at him, "If you don't mind me asking," Sam continued tentatively, "What year were you…"

"This age?" Emily finished as she gestured down at her young body. Sam nodded. "Well, I was seventeen in 1929. Born in March, 1913."

"Oh, so not that long ago." Sam asked tactfully, shooting Emily a questioning side glance.

"I guess. Only a few decades." She shrugged, "Still quite a long time. 'Specially when you're like this." She said, gesturing at herself again.

Sam frowned. He had asked the question not really expecting an answer; ghosts didn't have much of a concept of time. Especially not ghosts that died that long ago. Emily was the oddest ghost Sam had ever come across.

"So, 1929? Great Depression, right?" Sam asked, remembering one of the many history lessons he'd had in one of his many different schools.

Emily gave a half hearted laugh, "Yeah. It was… well, depressing." She looked forward with a forlorn expression reflecting the sunlight, "Money was obviously a problem - more than ever. And we weren't exactly a rich family in the first place. Getting what we needed was next to impossible. Especially with our crops failing."

Sam drew sympathy for the girl, her face saying exactly how hard the times were. He was tempted to ask how she had died, but he knew that was a touchy subject usually and the last thing he wanted to do was push her buttons. So he changed the subject.

"Why did you bury your mother all the way back there?" He asked, nodding his head back behind them.

Emily grinned, "Well 'all the way back there' isn't actually that far if you're walking faster than a snail." Sam blushed. "But it was her favourite place in the woods."

"Was it your's?"

Emily shook her head. "I didn't venture into the woods all too often. I spent most of my time in the barn."

"Did you…" Sam trailed off as he caught his breath, stopping for a moment to lean against a tree, "get on with your mother?"

Emily stopped next to Sam and turned to him with a frown, "We did when I was a child. Not so much as I grew older. We had our disagreements."

"Like what?" Sam asked, hoping he sounded as casual as he was trying to make it sound.

She shrugged, "She didn't agree with… my interests."

Sam chuckled softly, "I can relate to that." He muttered. His Dad never had understood his love for books and school and would never agree with any of his interests. "Is that why she's angry with you?"

Emily hesitated for a while. Sam was about to repeat the question a minute later, thinking she hand't heard it, when she spoke, "Yes. I suppose so."

Glancing at Emily, Sam saw what he thought was… jealousy? Hatred? It flashed across her face before she quickly replaced it with one of her smiles.

Sam changed the subject, pushing himself away from the tree and resuming the walk, "How far away are we anyway?"

"Not far now."

**SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN**

Dean was panicking. His face showed no sign of it, his guard fully intact. With each unsuccessful step they took in the search for Sam, the more his hopes thinned and the more his worry heightened. And Dean was very aware of the truth that the longer they spent searching for Sam and not finding him, the less likely they would find him alive and well. The signs of sunrise did nothing to quell his panic. His brother had spent most of the night alone and wounded. And that was only what they knew, the fact the situation for his brother could be far worse than that, terrified Dean.

John strode quietly a few feet away from him, mimicking Dean's movements with his gun in front of him but pointed down with the safety on, walking with stealth and precision as his sharpened senses strained for any sign of their missing family member.

They kept quiet as they covered more and more of the forest that was near to where they had had their first encounter with the spirit. So far, they hadn't found any signs to Sam having ever been there. No blood, no foot prints. Although, they weren't really expecting to find either, considering the bleeding had stopped with the wounds stitched and, if he was there, he had been transported. Besides, he wasn't in any state to be able to walk anyway.

Dean's guilt increased as he was once again reminded how vulnerable and defenceless he had left his little brother. If he hadn't been so stupid and caught up by the sight of the freaking light-silhouette he could have at least called for his father in time. Hell, he should have been high on alert when the lights started flickering, making sure his brother was okay.

"Dean." Johns voice crept through Dean's thoughts. "This isn't your fault." Dean frowned, could the guy read his friggin' mind? It wasn't the first time his Dad had voiced what he had been thinking."Seriously, Dean." John continued when there was no reply, "There was nothing you could have done about it."

Dean bit his lip to keep from yelling at his father. There were tons of things he could have done to stop his brother getting taken.

When there was still no reply, John pushed his argument, "They may be dang quick but your reflexes aren't that fast, Dean."

"Dammit Dad! I was meant to be looking after him. He was under _my_ watch and _I_ screwed up." Dean snapped.

"There was nothing you could've done." John iterated. Dean didn't look convinced.

"Let's just find him, okay?" Dean fixed, trudging faster through the dense forest. John quickened his pace to match Dean's.

They walked in silence as the sun slowly started to rise further in the sky. The forest soon turned into fields after fields and the hunters ploughed through them. Both all too conscious of time, they kept their eyes and ears on a constant search for any sign of Sam. But the further they went, the more lost Dean felt. There wasn't any way to know they were on the right track, and Dean's calm was falling down wall after wall at the prospect of loosing his brother.

**SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN**

Emily was true to her word and not long after, the two came out of the forest at a large clearing of, what appeared to be, the back garden of an old farmers house. Standing at the far end of the back garden, the house was slightly run down and was halfway through a new paint job that hadn't been finished. And, beyond the house, fields rolled out for miles and miles, all different greens and browns that changed shade in the wind.

In front of them and behind the house, stood a large pigs sty that stunk so badly Sam could smell it from where he was standing. Then on the other side of that, a horse stable was surrounded by a green space that was dotted with white sheep.

It was cold to the bone, but the sun was shining and Sam thought it was beautiful. Although, he figured his opinion may have been filtered through the fact he didn't think he had ever been more happier to see the signs of human civilisation in his life. He was okay. They were going to help him. He was going home to see his family.

Grinning wildly, Sam turned to the spirit on his right.

"Thank you so much, Emily." Sam thanked genuinely, "I honestly don't know what I would've done without you." He silently promised himself that he'd thank her in some other way; he would come back when he was better and put her to a peaceful rest. It was unfair that she had to constantly be alone, having to face her mother that obviously hated her.

But Emily looked upset, "You don't want to see my barn?" She asked.

She had mentioned her barn on one of her one-sided conversations earlier. It was where she used to go to get away from her family. Well, that's what Sam had remembered her saying, he had been a bit busy trying to get over a fallen tree at the time.

"Umm…" Sam wanted nothing more than to get back to his family as quickly as possible - especially now that help was only a few feet away - but, she looked so upset. Sam supposed it probably got lonely stuck in the woods with no one around for years on end. He understood why she might want someone to go and see her childhood haven. And it was the least he could do after she saved his ass. Twice. "Yeah. Okay. But only quickly, though."

Emily plastered a large grin on her face as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Only for a short while." He iterated.

Emily nodded, "I promise."

They walked around the edge of the woods - sticking close to the trees incase the owners were to lookout of the window and see Emily - and approached the little barn that stood off to the side of everything else, much further away from the house. It was isolated and closer to the trees.

"I liked it much further away from everything." She said, as if she were reading his mind. They were just nearing the large wooden doors when Emily turned to him, "I felt… more -" Emily's said, her voice trailing off as her eyes widened, looking at something beyond Sam's shoulder. "SAM! LOOK OUT."

Sam felt Emily's invisible hands levitate him and place him behind her and to the side protectively. "What do you want, Mother!" Emily asked impatiently.

But the spirits eyes weren't on her daughter. They were opened wide and stuck to Sam with a stronger intensity than before. But unlike before, it was more of a frantic look than an angry one. Sam stared back at the spirit stubbornly.

"Mother," Emily warned, "you have no business here. Leave and I will spare you." She hissed fiercely.

But the spirits good eye never wavered. It stared at Sam. The lazy eye on the other hand, was wavering about unseeingly in its socket at a high speed.

Finally, the spirit spoke, "See." She whispered loudly, an almost hiss, "Look."

The mother took a step forward, keeping her gaze on Sam.

"Mother, leave." Emily cautioned.

"Watch." The women uttered to Sam, walking closer to him. "Look. See."

Sam stood, frozen in place.

The older spirit finally sped towards Sam and, before Emily could do anything about it, Sam flipped out Dean's pocket knife and jabbed it into the apparition. It felt as though he was stabbing the air, but the spirit wavered quickly before vanishing.

"Nicely done, Samuel." Emily grinned.

Sam turned back to the barn, and the two walked over to the doors once more. The barn had obviously not been used in years. It was in a poor condition - almost to the point of ruins - with the wood rotting and vines crawling in and out of the wood panelling, the glass of shattered windows was littered around the space haphazardly.

But Emily didn't seem to notice, she only gazed at it with an almost obsessive stare. Like a child meeting their favourite football player for the first time.

With a swipe of her hand, she moved to open the door, but it wouldn't budge.

Emily's smile dropped as she tried again. When it failed once again she frowned, "Why won't it move?"

"Let me try." Sam suggested, walking up to the large handle.

He pulled heavily on it for a full minute before turning back to an angry-looking Emily, "I think it's locked."

"B-but, it can't be locked." She cried incredulously as she tried again with her hand, wildly trying to get the door open.

"Sorry Emily, but I think -"

Sam stopped when he heard a noise. The two turned their heads to the sound of laughter, coming from the forest. Followed by the snapping of twigs as the people started towards them.

Turning to Emily, Sam noticed she looked panicked, angry. She turned to him, her eyes blazing with an emotion Sam could not quite place.

"I must go." She whispered quickly, "You must come see it another day. Promise you will come back?"

Sam nodded with full of intentions of doing so; he owed her. Besides, he needed to come back to help her move on. He couldn't let her roam the world for years while she was so alone.

"As soon as I'm better." Sam guaranteed.

"You swear?" Emily asked, turning back towards the sound of people. They were getting closer. Sam nodded again. "I must bid you farewell. 'Til next time, Samuel."

Before Sam could thank her for helping him, her image wavered and vanished.

As soon as she disappeared, two boys tumbled out of the forest, one after another. The first one fell on the floor and the second toppled over him. They rolled over each other and landed in a sitting position. They both took a look at each other and started laughing. Sam stood with a smile on his face as he watched the two little boys laugh hysterically for a full minute. When the laughter started to die down, one of the boys turned his head slightly and caught sight of Sam, his laughing stopping instantaneously. The other boy, that must've been his brother, followed the other boy's gaze until he too spotted Sam, his laughter dying on his lips.

The two were grubby from head to toe in dust and mud. Sam guessed they were twins since they looked exactly the same; blonde curly hair, striking brown eyes and both wearing little dungarees with bare feet. He guessed they were around four or five years of age.

"Hello." Sam thought he should say, his voice sounding raspy and dehydrated. The boys continued to stare at him, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape. "Um. I'm Sam."

After what seemed like minutes of the two staring at Sam, one of the boys nudged the other boy to stand up, pulling his brother up with him.

"Are you otay?" One of them asked Sam.

The other one looked at him as if he had said the dumbest thing in the world, "Of corse he's not otay, stupid. He's all bloody and ouchy and bloody... and stuff."

The other one pushed his blonde curls out of his eyes before answering, "I was jus' aksking." He huffed at his brother before turning his attention back to Sam, "Maybe you could come and see Mom, she's weally good at fixing things when they're bleeding, right Jonty?"

Jonty flashed a grin in agreement with his brother, "Yeah, Mommy's weally good at fixing our ouchies. An' we get quite a lot of them, huh Jamie?" Jamie grinned mischievously and nodded, his curls bouncing on his head. Jamie continued, "B-but, how did you get hwurt? Even me and Jamie haven't got _that _hwurt."

Sam smiled at the two boys, "I fell out of a tree."

The two both looked at each other, their mouths wide open, and then turned back to Sam with admiration, grins on their faces, "How high did you climb!?" Jonty exclaimed.

"Must have been pwetty high." Jamie nodded.

Sam gave a one shouldered shrug, "It was pretty high." He said, much to the boys' excitement, "Where would your Mommy be? I wouldn't mind seeing her if that's okay. Or your Daddy?"

"Mommy's in da house."

"We'll show you the way." Jamie said proudly, both the boys walking in front of him and marched towards the house. Walking a few feet, they turned around to Sam, surprised not to find him close behind. They quickly realised that he couldn't walk very fast because he had his hand wrapped around his stomach and was limping - obviously hurting quite badly. More than they had ever been hurt. The twins turned and walked back to him.

"You can't walk very fast, huh Sam?" Jamie said.

Sam gave a half smile, straining from the effort of walking, " 'Fraid not, Jamie."

"We'll help you." Jonty said, huffing out his chest. Jamie nodded in agreement and the boys both took places either side of Sam. "If you's put your hand's here," Jonty said, pointing to his shoulder as Jamie pointed to his own, "Then we can help you walk faster."

Sam put his hands down on both of their shoulders and the three started again for the house. It didn't help much but it seemed to make the boys happy so Sam made a show of making it seem they were helping a lot.

They made their way over to the house slowly and a few minutes later, were standing at the bottom of the porch steps. Sam looked up at them with trepidation. The twins looked up at Sam, who was pale and drenched in sweat. They then looked to the steps and then to each other.

"Uh oh." Jonty uttered.

Jamie quickly tried to sort the problem out. "Jonty, move and den Sam can put his hand on the bannister."

Jonty nodded and moved away so Sam could hold onto the rail. Sam slowly moved up the steps, the opened and still-bleeding lacerations on his chest screaming in agony.

"Are you otay? You look kinda sick." Jamie observed, looking up at Sam who's other hand still lay on his shoulder for support.

"Yeah." Jonty agreed, "You look like you're gunna throw up."

Jamie looked up at him, "Are you gunna thwow up?" He asked. Sam bit his lip to keep himself from spewing. " 'Cause if you are, can you tell me first so I can move outta da way?"

"Are you gunna thwow up?" Jonty repeated when Sam didn't reply. Sam shook his head, biting on his lip harder. "How 'bout now?"

Sam shook his head and moved up another step, "An' now?" Jonty asked.

"I weally hate it when I thwow up." Jamie stated helpfully.

"Yeah, the smell is so bad… it smells like… it smells like Jamie." Jonty snickered.

Jamie moved away from Sam to quickly punch his brother on the shoulder before running back down the steps and back to Sam.

"Im gunna tell Mom you hit me." Jonty said, glaring at his brother.

Jamie looked shocked and then tried to distract his brother, "Hey Jonty, you wemember that time that you thwew up in dat restaurant and it went _evewywhere_?" He said, giggling, "You looked like a fountain dat spwayed out vegetable smoothie!" Jamie snickered. Sam's stomach lurched. "And then it hit Auntie May in the face, an' she scweamed!" Jamie continued in utter hysterics.

"An' then you took one look at her face an' you thwew up too." Jonty added before joining in with Jamie's laughter.

The laughter died down and Jonty turned to Sam, "How 'bout now?" He asked.

Sam shook his head as he grunted up the last step, "I'm good Jonty."

"Phew." Jonty said, wiping imaginary sweat off his brow. Despite how he was feeling, Sam smiled slightly. "Wouldn't want to look like Auntie May."

Jamie turned to his twin, "Jonty, you help Sam while I goes an' gets Mommy." He said in an authoritative tone. Jonty nodded and stood in Jamie's place, lifting Sam's hand to put on his shoulder.

"You can lean on me if you want." Jonty said, brown eyes looking up at Sam through his mess of curly blonde hair. "I's a strong boy now."

Sam smiled and put a bit more of his weight on the small boys shoulder, much to Jonty's satisfaction as he puffed out his chest.

Not long after, Jamie came hurtling around the corner, holding his mother's hand as he dragged her across the porch. When the women caught sight of the bloody young boy on her porch, she didn't need pulling along by her son and ran towards the boy.

"Jesus! What's happened! Gosh. Are you alright?" The women fussed as she neared Sam.

"He fell outta tree." Jonty said, still standing beside Sam.

"Me and Jont's found him by the barn all bloody and stuff, didn't we Jont's?" Jamie said proudly, Jonty nodded.

"What's your name?" The women asked.

Sam replied before either of the twins could for him, "Sam." He rasped.

"I'm Sarah." She said warmly, "Why don't we get you inside and sitting down, huh?"

"Thank you, M'am." Sam smiled, his teeth chattering from being in the cold so long, "I'm sorry for -" He stopped as he coughed, "For coming by like this."

"Nonsense." She quickly brushed off. Sarah ushered Jonty away from Sam and bent down to Sam's height so she could manoeuvre Sam's arm so it was draped over her shoulder. Placing a hand around his back, they made their way slowly towards the back door.

Sarah looked to her boys who were leading the way, "Could one of you get the door?"

They both raced to the door and fought each other to get it open. When Sam and Sarah both arrived, they were both still pushing each other to open the door first. Sarah looked at Sam and rolled her eyes in a '_Kids. What ya gunna do with them?' _sort of way. "Boys!" She said fiercely, freezing them both on the spot, "Jonty you open the door. Jamie, you open the one on the way into the living room."

Jonty stuck his tongue out at his brother and opened the door for Sam and his mother.

Jamie glared at him before racing ahead and opening the door going into the living room.

"Thanks Jonty." Sam said as they walked through the door and into the kitchen, then into the living room.

Sarah lead Sam to the sofa and helped him lay down comfortably, draping a blanket over him to try and get some warmth back into him. "Now, what on God's earth landed you in this situation, huh?" Sarah asked good-naturedly as she - after Sam nodded it was okay - lifted his shirt up carefully to take a look at his wounds.

Sam told Sarah and the boys - who were listening very intently - about how he was hiking with his Dad and older brother in the woods when they set up camp for the night. He had gotten bored in the morning after when his family hadn't woken up and decided he would go for a walk, thinking it would be a good idea to climb a tree. He got too high and couldn't get back down. He fell and, once he had woken up hours after the fall, he couldn't find his way back to the campsite and his family.

"Some adventure." Sarah, said as she continued to keep pressure on Sam's bleeding cuts, "Hey, boys?" She called to her sons behind her, "Grab me a bowl of warm water, a sponge and a phone, would ya?"

The boys both looked at each other briefly before sprinting for the door and fighting to get through it first before they both disappeared.

Sarah kept her focus on Sam's wounds as she spoke, "Nice story." She smiled, "I'm impressed. Quick thinking." She praised.

Sam frowned, "I don't know what you -"

"I appreciate you making something up for my boys."

Sam cocked his head, "I'm not -"

"So tell me how you found the hospital clothing in the middle of the woods while you were hiking?" She asked, her eyebrow raised with a kind smile on her lips.

Sam - in his foggy-minded state - completely forgot he was still wearing his hospital pyjamas. "I-I -" Sam stuttered, looking for an explanation.

"Now, I may be old, but I know for a fact that hospital get ups are definitely not what the kids are wearing these days." She grinned. "And this," She added, pulling up the sleeve of Dean's jacket slightly to find the hospital bracelet around his wrist, "Is not a great fashion accessory."

Sam clenched his jaw as he desperately tried to find a reason for the clothing.

Noticing Sam's stuggles, Sarah smiled and lowered her voice slightly, focusing on Sam's wounds once again, "I think I know what happened. Those woods can be quite… different, huh? Some weird stuff happens out there." She said knowingly.

Sam's eyes widened, "You know…?"

Sarah nodded, "My father had warned me about the kind of things that lurk out there when I was a kid - before he passed." She gave a shrug, "I try to tell my boys to stay away but, of corse, as soon as I say they can't do something, they do everything in their power to make it happen, you know what I mean?" She smiled briefly, "What I'm impressed at, is how well you're taking it."

"Well," Sam hissed when she put more pressure on his chest, " S'not my first time, M'am."

She looked up at him, "So you knew before…" Sam nodded, and Sarah nodded back in acknowledgement.

The two boys came back into the room with the items Sarah had asked for. She took the bowl of water and the sponge, passing the phone to Sam. "Why don't you give your father a call while I clean this up? I'm sure he's worried sick about you."

Sam smiled his thanks and quickly dialled the new number he had recently had to learn off by heart. He held it to his ear, his heart fluttering as he heard it ring. A gruff and all too familiar voice picking up on the third ring.

"Hi... Dad?"_  
_

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**A/N. Please review! Requests are welcome (although I have a plot, so if it strays - I might not use it) So let me know what you want :)**

**And thanks to those that did review - like holy shit, thank you.**

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_**REVIEW REPLY**_

**_KlainebowsHallowsRumbleroar - _**Can I just quickly say how brilliantly random your username is? Its wonderful. But a bitch to type up for a dyslexic ;) ha ha. And thank you so much - I had a really good day thanks :)

**_reannablue -_ **Thank you so much! Yeah - sorry I didn't give much more insight about Emily's character yet. But never fear - she comes back soon. What do you think she's up to? Bad/good vibes? It'd be interesting to know. Thanks for reviewing!

**_Leahelisabeth -_**Thank you - glad you're liking it :) Yeah, I'm a wee bit dyslexic. And maybe a bit of a technophobe and wouldn't know how to get a beta. But I will read through them more carefully so thank you so much for pointing that out. If you find any more that are bothering ( I hate it when writers spell something wrong throughout the whole of the story, you're right - it's distracting) - please let me know, its a real help :)

_**grishma239** -_ Cheers, I had real fun. Finally 16! God, It feels so weird. Thank you :)

_**lenail125 -**_Ha ha, yeah - I like it when he's in a protective mood too. Specially when Sam's injured... for some reason (I don't know why :/). Glad you're liking it - thanks for the review! X

**_Lily_ - **Thank you for the review - happy you're liking it. And thanks for the birthday message! Xx

_**Sarah -**_N'aw cheers, glad you like it. I didn't think the first chapter flowed so well, but thanks. Thank you so much for reviewing! X :)

_**KressieBe -** _Thank you, thank you. ;)

_**Frace -** _N'aw, thank you so much - I had a great day! X

**_Becky -_ **Thanks for reviewing again - it means a lot. And cheers :)


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